A Few Surprises
by Beboppin' Betty
Summary: Sasha and Payson reconnect after he left town, and to his surprise, things have changed.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, etc.

A/N: This was written sometime after Sasha left in season (?). It will likely remain unfinished but thought it was better posted than wasting away in my computer.

* * *

She looked positively exultant, there on the podium to receive her gold. Her friends were screaming themselves hoarse, her parents were weeping unabashedly, and he was bursting with so much pride he felt as if he were up there right next to her.

Payson Keeler had taken two gold medals at the 2012 Olympics, and the team would win Silver. All well-deserved, but this one head and shoulders above the others.

He watched as she was mobbed by friends, family, and media after stepping down from the podium, and he remembered how tirelessly they'd worked on her floor routines and to morph her into an artistic gymnast. Now she looked as if she'd been born to wow the judges with her grace instead of her strength, and had won gold doing so.

Of course, this was all her, he reminded himself. He'd put her on the path, but he'd left her to achieve her dream on her own, more than a year before the Games. He'd always felt like a real shit for doing it, but now he could see it had been the right thing.

The crowd around her thinned as the other girls drifted off to do interviews on their own wins, and the cameras had got their fill for the moment, so he made his move. She saw him approach and greeted him with a grin so brilliant he couldn't help but grin back.

"Sasha!"

She launched herself at him and he caught her tightly, almost dropping the flowers he'd brought. She leaned back to search his face, but didn't relinquish her hold. "What are you doing here?"

"Did you really think I would miss this?" He winced as he said it - she had every right to think just that, but she didn't take the bait and hugged him once more before finally letting go.

"Congratulations," he handed her the bouquet of tulips. "I know roses are traditional, but these reminded me of you."

"They're perfect."

He wanted to sit down right there with her and discuss every second of her routine but he saw her parents heading over to join them and figured they'd have to keep the conversation short.

"So what did you think?" she demanded and launched into questions regarding her extensions and timing and technique. He let her babble for a moment and took the time to study her. She looked older, even though it'd just been a year. _Distance will do that_, he mused. He'd been so close to her before that he'd never looked at her as a whole person, just parts of a body in routine. She was standing tall with her medal proudly displayed and looked…regal. He realized she was staring at him expectantly. Kim and Mark Keeler were steps away. He cleared his throat.

"You were poetry in motion, Payson. It was a stunning performance. Truly."

And then the Keelers were there and he was making small talk with them and before he knew it, they were leading Payson away, and he felt a momentary stab of disappointment. They still had so much to talk about! He scrambled to think of something to say that would keep her there for just another moment.

"Sasha!" Payson dislodged herself from her mother's arm impatiently. "We're having a victory party at the hotel tonight, all of us. Say you'll come."

Relief. "Wild horses couldn't stop me," he assured her.

The hotel banquet room was teeming with faces from his past, and he was thrilled to see Emily and Kaylie again. Lauren hadn't bothered to come and say hello, and that was fine with him. She'd been the one to set in motion the chain of events that had led to his resignation.

"I'm so proud of you both," he assured them. They stood there in their fanciest dresses and shot him narrow looks.

"We still haven't forgiven you for leaving us with Bitchface Beals," Kaylie informed him haughtily, but Emily ruined it with a smile. She was flying high with her Bronze win and nothing could touch her today. "We really missed you!"

He saw Summer standing with Steve Tanner. He'd heard they'd got married earlier in the year and, despite her choice in new husband, was happy for her.

The room suddenly broke into a round of applause, and he knew Payson had arrived. He helped himself to champagne off a passing tray and waited for the mob to abate. He was chatting with Chloe Kmetko near the bar sometime later when there was a touch on his elbow and Payson was there. Or a woman who strongly resembled his former pupil, in a clingy black dress and her lush hair long and loose.

"There you are," she said in a chiding voice, as if he'd been avoiding her all night.

"You look lovely," he managed, and ordered a stronger drink. She beamed in a way that told him she really had no idea just how lovely. She held up her wrist to show off a pair of diamond bangle bracelets. "My parents got these for me, for making it here." By 'here' she meant the Olympics. Not for winning, just for trying. He loved the Keelers for that.

"Come sit," she ordered and led him by the elbow to a nearby table which was currently empty. "Where have you been this year?" He puffed out a breath. "Licking my wounds mostly. Tonight's not about me, though, it's yours. You were remarkable! I've never seen you more graceful."

"It's all that inner strength," she joked, tracing the edge of her champagne glass with a finger, then turned serious. "I have you to thank for all of this, really." He immediately protested. "I just got you started on this road, Payson, you did this on your own."

"No. When you left I was furious with you, and betrayed, and heartbroken. I took all that and put it into the routine I did tonight. I don't think I forgave you until I saw you tonight at the arena."

"Payson," he breathed, disgusted with himself. "I-"

"Payson!" Emily and Kaylie descended on them and hauled Payson out of her seat. "Sasha, we're stealing her for a bit." He could barely choke out a reply, though he desperately wanted to finish the conversation after she'd dropped that bombshell on him.

Before they could drag her away, Payson dipped her head close to his. Her breath was warm on his ear and he caught the subtle hint of jasmine from her hair. "I'm not done with you, Belov. You'd better not run out on me again."

He wouldn't have dared, not after what she'd just said about the last time he'd left. The girls wandered off, laughing and happy, and he frowned into his glass. Chloe Kmetko dropped into the empty seat and fixed him with a look. "Honey, are you in _trouble_." Sasha heaved a sigh. Chloe had always required some patience, and apparently that hadn't changed. "I know. I knew Payson would have been angry when I left last year, but I didn't think she'd take it as badly as she did. I feel like a real piece of shit." She arched one of her shapely brows in sheer incredulity. "That's not what I mean at all. Just…tread carefully."

He was in no mood to try and decipher Chloe Kmetko's cryptic observations and politely excused himself. As the evening wore on the celebration morphed into a party as the alcohol and exuberance flowed freely. He was feeling just a little tipsy and let several of the gym-mothers swing him around the dance floor. Eventually he was surprised to find Payson had taken the place of his previous partner. "You're more popular than me!" she laughed and he twirled her. "I had to get Austin to distract her so I could get five minutes with you."

"All you had to do was ask."

"Are you kidding? I would have had to tackle that woman to get her away from you. She wasn't letting go without a fight."

He'd never seen Payson look so…carefree before. She was so at ease and relaxed with herself. He liked how it looked on her. "Well I owe Austin one, then," he joked. Only he wasn't joking. Sasha shook off the confusion that had gripped him for a moment and twirled Payson again.

"I kept up with the ballet, you know," she admitted.

"It shows. When you move, you look…well, it shows." He said lamely, and hurried to cover up the awkwardness. "I'm glad. You've done so well, Payson. I'm so proud of you."

The tempo of the song shifted to something slower, and he automatically pulled her closer to keep up with the music. Her arm settled around his shoulder, her other hand clasped his lightly. She didn't protest, and he wondered if she'd even noticed. In those shoes she was nearly eye-to-eye with him, he mused, and wondered if he wasn't more than just a little tipsy.

"Why did you leave? Really?" she said suddenly. Her voice didn't hitch, but he could hear a wealth of emotion in it anyway. At that very moment, Sasha couldn't think of a single reason that was good enough for why he had abandoned her.

"Payson, I'm sorry. That's all I can say, and beg your forgiveness." They stared each other down until Austin Tucker swept by with a redhead in his arms. "Why so serious, kids?" He demanded. "This is a _party_!"

The tension was broken and Payson laughed. "You're forgiven, Sasha. I have the Gold because of you. Oh!" She gasped, and Sasha jolted. "I totally forgot! I have something for you!" And she took him by the hand without another word to led him to the elevator. They were alone as the car climbed to nearly the top floor and she didn't let go of his hand until they reached her door. When she fished the key card out of her top, he averted his gaze with a laugh. And then, very suddenly, he saw the scene from an outside point of view and sobered almost instantly.

_Get a grip, Belov. This is completely innocent - there's nothing going on here but friends catching up._

The thought eased him as he followed Payson into the room she was sharing with Emily. Emily's bed was a jumble of clothes and blankets while Payson's was made with almost military precision. The scene so reminded him of all the other meets they'd been on when he'd been their coach that he relaxed immediately. There were bouquets of flowers on nearly every surface, for both the girls, and one or two open champagne bottles. Clearly they'd done a bit of pre-celebrating before the party. He didn't blame them.

And then Payson kicked off her shoes and combed back her hair with her fingers a couple of times and started stretching out her feet just as she would before a workout, and the lust hit him with all the force of a fist to the gut. He nearly stumbled back from it, he was so surprised.

He wanted her. Badly.

_Oh hell._

His mind was racing - mostly a combination of _this is wrong!_ and _how did this happen?_ and he actually took a step back. Payson noticed and looked quizzical for a second, but shrugged it off. "Want a drink?" she offered, holding out one of the open bottles of champagne. "It's probably flat by now, but-" she shrugged again and took a swig right from the bottle. When she licked her bottom lip to catch a dribble of the wine, he had to force himself to take a very long, very deep breath.

"Payson, I don't think-"

"It's ok, Sasha, I'm legal."

"What?" His voice came out in a squeak. Good God, this had to end _now._ This attraction was way out of left field, and he needed to put it back where it came from.

"To drink. You can drink legally here when you're eighteen. I'm nearly nineteen, so it's okay."

"Right, I'm not worried about that. Shouldn't we get back to the party? They might miss us."

"So let them. We'll never get a chance to have a real conversation down there."

He was still trying to catch up with himself on what the hell was happening. The last time he'd seen Payson he'd been flattered and amused by her misguided crush, but had treated it as what it was: a little girl with an admiration for him. The Payson Keeler standing before him was not a little girl, not by any stretch. Just standing in a room in a little black dress and bare feet and that _hair _of hers, she exuded sex appeal.

And for a second he forgot everything but that and moved to be closer to her. He was close enough to smell her shampoo again when reality intervened. He snatched the champagne bottle from her fingers and took a healthy pull. She seemed amused more than anything and he thought maybe, _maybe_ he'd get out of this with his dignity intact.

"What did you want to give - what did you bring me here for?"

She bent to dig through her duffle bag and when she stood again she tossed her hair back carelessly, and he nearly lost it then.

"This." She held up his Gold Medal, the one he'd loaned her until she could replace it with her own. He didn't reach for it because he was afraid he'd bypass it to touch her instead. And the worst part was he knew exactly how she'd feel. When he'd been her coach he wouldn't have thought twice about touching her to adjust her posture in a move. He hadn't once registered how her skin had felt then, but somehow his subconscious remembered and was choosing now to replay every brush of skin that had happened in the past.

"Sasha?" Payson stepped closer, concern in her eyes. He blinked, cleared his throat. "Sorry, I…thank you. I'm surprised you brought it with you." He still hadn't taken it from her and he could tell she was confused. She kept coming toward him and he couldn't help but step back, only to find himself trapped against the dresser.

"You're acting really weird right now, you know that?" She tucked the medal into his jacket pocket. "What is going on?" And when she looked up at him, her eyes changed, and in that instant he knew that she knew.

She didn't move, she just looked up at him through her lashes. "Well, Sasha?" She was daring him. What he should have done was edge away from her, act like nothing was going on, and take her back down to the party, but God help him, he didn't.

And then his hands were in her hair and he was kissing her. It wasn't gentle, it was hungry and demanding. She tasted like champagne and made a noise in the back of her throat and pressed her body into his. Then a door slammed somewhere in the hall and he jumped away like a scalded cat. He could hear the blood pumping in his ears; she looked a little dazed, mussed, and one glance at her swollen lips had him wanting to do it all over again.

"My God, Payson, I'm so sorry! I - I don't know what…I'm going to go now."

"Sasha-"

"I _need _to leave now. I'm sorry," he said again and all but ran out the door, leaving a very bewildered Payson Keeler standing alone in her hotel room. He was relieved to make it into the elevator without her coming after him - as moral as he tried to be, he knew that he wouldn't have been able to say no if she asked him to stay. He'd never before been so insanely attracted to a woman that he lost control of himself and wondered, for the millionth time, what the fuck was happening.

His luck didn't hold out for an empty lobby, and the elevator doors slid open to reveal Chloe Kmetko. He hardly noticed her, but she took one long look at him and shook her head. "I guess you didn't take my advice, huh?"

"What?" Then he remembered the cryptic conversation they'd had earlier in the night. She'd told him to tread carefully, and he realized then that Emily's mother was a lot more astute than he'd given her credit for. He only wished she'd filled him in before any of this mess had happened.

"I'm sorry Chloe, I've got to go. Say goodbye to the girls for me, will you?"

"Sure, Sasha."

A week later when he was back in the States and Payson and the rest of the girls were doing their interview tours, he finally worked up the courage to open the email that he'd received from Payson the day after _it _had happened. He didn't know what to expect, but was surprised nonetheless.

_Coward._

That's all it said. Just one word. But, he reflected over his beer while Payson Keeler chatted with Letterman on his television set, it summed things up nicely.


	2. Chapter 2

He was back in Boulder.

It had been long enough since that night in London that'd he'd had time to gain perspective on the whole kiss issue. He'd gotten over it and moved on, and to prove it agreed to a speaking engagement for the human kinetics program at the local university. That's how he found himself in the first row of an amphitheatre of a classroom waiting to be introduced. He hadn't expected so many people would be interested in what he had to say, but the place was full. The professor clapped her hands to get the room's attention and made short work of introducing him, going on about his Olympic wins and years as a coach and whatnot; nothing he hadn't heard before.

"Hello everyone," he smiled and ignored the distinctly feminine sighs from the front row. "Your esteemed professor assured me that many of you had questions prepared, so regretfully I don't have much of a speech to give-" he flashed his most apologetically charming smile at the audience. "So why not just get to it?"

For a short while he fielded questions about the Olympics and the caliber of athletes he'd competed against, and then they moved onto conditioning.

"The level of conditioning any competitive gymnast requires is huge, but for an elite gymnast doing Olympic training, it's just ridiculous. These athletes work out eight, ten hours a day. It can have an amazing payoff, but it can also wear a person into the ground tremendously fast."

"What about as a coach?" someone called. "How is that compared to competing?"

"Honestly, they're incomparable. It's somewhat difficult to explain, but-"

"Being a coach is sheer psychology," a cool voice interrupted from somewhere in the back. "An athlete's job is to do the impossible, physically and mentally. The coach has to make the impossible seem possible."

He found her in an instant and forced his voice not to betray anything. "That's exactly right." Turning to the professor, he smiled. "It seems like you didn't need me to speak after all. You've already got an Olympian in your midst. Ladies and gentlemen, Payson Keeler there is a two time Gold medalist."

Her stare was unreadable and unwavering. "And Sasha Belov was the coach that got me there."

Later, after the room had cleared and there was no one left but him and Payson, she finally got out of her seat and came to him. She was in slim pants and a short leather jacket and her hair was swept back with a pair of sunglasses. She looked terrific. And annoyed. And clearly he'd been fooling himself.

"You're unbelievable, Belov."

He frowned - whenever she called him Belov she sounded more like an angry lover than former trainee.

"Hello Payson."

"That's it? That's all you have to say to me?"

"No," he sighed. "I suppose I owe you a little more than that. Is there somewhere we can go?"

The bench was well off the quad and the area quiet enough that they wouldn't be interrupted. She was turned sideways to face him, and stared him down with that patented Keeler intensity. "So, I kissed you once, and you ran away. Then you kissed me…and you ran away. Seems like you've made a habit of running from me."

"When you put it like that, it sounds pretty bad," he agreed. "But what else was I supposed to do, Payson?"

"It was just a kiss."

He scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration. "No, it wasn't. It was a lot more than that. And it shouldn't have happened."

"Why not?"

"Because it was wrong."

"_Why?" _She leaned forward, eyes narrowed. They were inches apart now and he hated himself for not having the strength to back away. "Why was it wrong, Sasha? You weren't my coach, not for a long time. I wasn't underage, if that's it. So what?"

"I'm so much older than you."

"Uh huh. Try again."

"I took advantage of you."

She snorted. "That's not the way I remember it. That time I kissed you at The Rock - that was nothing, but in London? I felt it, and I _know_ you did. What I want to know is what changed?"

"I don't know, Payson. I've asked myself that a million times since. You had just won, and you were so happy and you were beautiful, and it just hit me when we were in your room."

"But it wasn't just some fleeting thing," she remarked shrewdly. "Otherwise you wouldn't have avoided me for another year and a half."

"Stubborn as ever I see," he huffed, exasperated. She smiled that brilliant smile she got when she accomplished something monumental. He narrowed his eyes and gave into the temptation to brush back the long strands of hair the wind kept sweeping into her face. God, he loved the feeling of his fingers in her hair. So he kept them there for a moment, and Payson looked positively triumphant.

"This just can't work," he said with finality.

"_Can't _isn't in my vocabulary, Belov." She leaned in and touched her lips to his, very lightly, very gently, before getting to her feet. "Sorry, I have to go." She hesitated for a brief second. "You know where I stand here, Sasha, but if you want me you're going to have to come get me."

He watched her walk away and ignored the feeling of thwarted desire that even just a whisper of a kiss had stirred in him.


End file.
